The Kid
by NGO and TUG
Summary: Snake takes care of some unfinished business from the Big Shell incident, and Otacon watches, well, certainly not Snake. The duo prepare to face a monumental challenge they never expected.
1. Default Chapter

The Kid

A brightly lit corridor, full of activity, blindingly white; white walls, white uniforms, white shoes, white sheets. It was the brilliant smear of ruby that pulled Snake back into reality - a victim of a misplaced ambition to become a bullfighter being wheeled by on a gurney, surrounded by a throng of nurses and med students. The doctors were busy playing poker in the staff lounge. Snake, of course, was blissfully unaware of this rather alarming fact, as he clung to the window ledge, freezing rain slapping his knuckles. He glanced down at the seventy-foot drop.

"Otacon, do you read me?" Silence. Snake tried again. "Otacon, come in!" A faint crackle over the codec, nothing else. "DAMN IT, OTACON! Turn of your..._cartoons_ ...and _listen to me!_ We're on a fucking mission here!"

"Sorry, Snake," came the meek response. "I just got the special edition and...uh...multi...tasking?" After a decidedly ominous silence, Otacon sighed. "Right, Snake, we're on schedule – run into difficulties?"

"Had I run into difficulties, Otacon, I doubt you'd have even noticed the _gunfire _and _explosions _that usually come with, ah, difficulties..."

"Sorry,"

"Here I am, hanging from a fucking skyscraper in the dark, and you, you're-"

"I didn't mean –"

"_Just tell me where to go._"

"Ah, right, Snake, fifteen feet to the left and you should be looking into the pediatrics centre. No, no, the other left. I mean, my left. Any luck?"

"I'm not seeing any babies, Otacon."

"You're not seeing any babies. Well. There are several possible explanations for that phenomenon. One, maybe the Patriots have found out about our mission, and have moved the entire hospital. Two, maybe I accidentally spent the last three months looking up maps of the wrong building. Three – "

"Very funny, Otacon. Do you know how cold it is out here? My balls are fucking shriveled."

"Okay, okay, the kid we're looking for should be a toddler by now."

"Like, a small child?"

"Yes, like a small child, Snake."

"I see small children..."

"That's right,"

"Everywhere..."

"Well,"

"Which one is it?"

"Third bed to the right. No, not that way. This new visuals system is screwing me up..."

A shower of glass beads cascaded over Snake's head as the safety glass windows fell prey to the warrior's iron fist. Swinging over the ledge, Snake landed lightly in the darkened sleeping ward; cherub like faces dozed peacefully on feathery pillows. He took out his SOCOM.

"_Snake!_"

"My bad," he muttered, and switched it for his M-9. He began creeping cautiously towards the cot in question.

"OK, I think, Snake, that it would be better, you know, if you refrained from tranquilizing the kid. Got me?"

"Well, I wasn't planning on it, but it occurred to me that you might throw a fit if I put a real bullet between the eyes of one of those cute hospital nurses....hmm?"

"Are you going to wait until it wakes up and starts shrieking?"

"Bit behind, aren't we, Otacon? I'm in the emergency stairwell. Kid's fast asleep." The dim red lights in the stairwell cast odd shadows on the floor. The child, wrapped in a thin pink blanket, sighed. Snake stopped to stare at it intently. Witnessing no more suspicious behavior, he continued. And then paused. A curl of smoke drifted up from below, and inching forward, Snake could see the profile of a young male, hunched over a glowing cigarette. In a moment the hapless med student, who had been taking a break from the hectic routine of hospital work, was crumpled on the ground. Snake stepped over him. Further down, he found an old Maxim glossy. Apparently the stairwell was a popular place for these harried apprentices to relax. Finally, at the ground level, Snake checked the door to make sure it was properly disconnected from the alarm system, and then slipped out into the stormy night.

Otacon was waiting in the customary unmarked van. "Well, that was pretty easy," he said cheerfully, with a curious glance at 'the kid'.

"Easy for you to say," the seasoned fighter grumbled, shoving the child, who had slept obliviously through the entire ordeal, into Otacon's arms.

"Aww, he's a cute little guy, isn't he!" It immediately began to wail.

"Nice, Otacon."

END CHAPTER 1


	2. KC: THE EARLY YEARS

_Author's note: Cheers to all those who know who the kid is, and to those who do not, play the game. It's Olga's baby. On another note, we realize the first segment of the story was language heavy; the vast majority is not. Thus the PG-13 rating, for mild language, innuendo, and implied violence. If there are still issues, please do share; we are not trying to be difficult. So – hopefully – enjoy!_

ONE WEEK SINCE ABDUCTION, FAKING THE RECORDS

Snake pulled off his gloves, triggering a shower of ice and snow. His snow caked boots were worse; but once he had peeled off the extreme weather gear that was absolutely necessary here at the remote Alaskan outpost, he paused to listen.

"Here comes the cho-cho, woooo," came Otacon's voice, edged with despair. "No? Um, um, here comes the airplane!" There was a loud clattering sound of a spoon being thrown to the ground and then whimpering (Otacon). Snake, entering the room, paused to take in the scene. The kid was burbling happily, working to push the bowl of baby food after the spoon, and Otacon was sitting on the floor with his head in his hands.

"Move." Snake retrieved the spoon and glared at first the kid, then Otacon, who scrambled out of the way. "I'll get it to eat."

"I'll just finish faking her records," Otacon said, relieved. "Uh, what are we going to name her? Hey, how about Neko?"

"No," Snake said quickly. "No. Why don't we try not to pick a name from your video collection? Something regular."

"Okay," Otacon muttered, slightly hurt. "I just...never mind."

"Casey, how about that?"

"Yeah, yeah, that works. I'll take care of it." He disappeared into his study. With a few keystrokes, he accessed the documents, and began to work, stopping only to eavesdrop on Snake's progress.

"Here comes the Harrier! Vvvvv... Wow, stinger missile! Heh, wouldn't want to eat that...hey!" A splat and several curses later, Snake stomped into Otacon's work area, baby in his arms, strained carrot dripping down his face. "It's going to bed."

Otacon stood up to take the child, ruffling her hair affectionately. "Well, I got it done, Snake," he said brightly, holding out the documents with one hand. Snake took them. He shuffled through the documents quickly, until he reached the birth certificate, and shot a murderous glance at Otacon. "K...C..."

"What?"

"I said Casey."

"Yeah, that's what I..."

"You wrote, K, C."

"I don't understand what you're upset about." Snake opened his mouth to argue this statement, stopped, handed back the documents, and walked off, muttering something like 'shower' at the surprised Otacon.

ONE YEAR SINCE ABDUCTION, LANGUAGE

"Damnt, 'con, stop bitching."

Otacon was shocked.

KC tried to glower and then giggled happily.

"Listen here, young lady," he tried ineffectively, as she wandered off in the general direction of bed, which was what he had just suggested she hurry up and do. "Snake, we need to talk!" were the next words out of his mouth. Snake, in the kitchen, grunted. "Do you know what she just said to me? Did you hear what she just said?"

Snake sighed, put down his knife, and brushed off his apron.

"Okay, okay, what's going on?" Anything to stop Otacon from continuing his high-pitched hysterics. "I'm listening."

"That's the problem! Listening! That girl has ears! And now she has a mouth, too!"

"And you just noticed this, Otacon?"

"That's not what I meant! And you know it!" Otacon, hands on his hips, was standing in the doorway looking more and more indignant and self-righteous as the situation progressed.

"Calm down – "

"No! Where is she picking up this, this _language_!"

"Oh, damn it, Otacon, stop bitching. They're just words...Otacon?" Snake shrugged as Otacon stomped out.

It was a considerable amount of time later when Otacon reappeared, looking less ruffled but still slightly hurt. Ah, well, Otacon always looked slightly hurt, Snake thought, warily waiting for the next outburst. But the issue seemed to have been resolved.

"You know, we've had KC for a full year now, Snake," he began, and sensing the issue of language wasn't going to be the subject of the conversation, Snake nodded for him to continue. "Well, we should, I mean, I've been thinking we should have a party for her. A birthday party." Blink. Blink. Snake stared.

"Why?" Momentarily taken aback, Otacon frowned and then narrowed his eyes.

"Don't you want her to have a normal childhood? Don't you want her to have a different experience than we did? Don't you want – " _That's for sure, _Snake thought silently, _I **wouldn't** want her screwing her mother. But he's right,_ Snake realized, suddenly slightly bemused, _I didn't have any birthday parties...or presents..._

"Otacon?" he said suddenly, interrupting the tirade. "How do you order things online? On the internet?"

"Huh? Oh, what do you..."

"Just tell me."

"Here, uh, you click here, and then..." Otacon, having set up a terminal in the kitchen for easy access during mealtimes, demonstrated.

"Alright, I've got the gist of it. Now go."

"Go?" Otacon looked baffled.

"Plan her birthday. Whatever. Go."

The next day over breakfast, while KC was playing with a broken set of thermal goggles in the next room, Otacon brought up the issues of cakes.

"We should bake her one," he suggested, placing his oversized coffee mug on the only clear spot of the table.

"Ah," Snake said wisely, "By 'we' should bake a cake, you mean 'I' should bake a cake."

"Well, yes," Otacon said, sipping his caffeine filled mug happily. "Basically."

"When I go to town to pick up the mail, I'll also pick up the ingredients," Snake said, resigned. "No guests?"

"Huh? Guests! We can have guests! Hey, let's see... Who can we invite? We could give Raiden a call...no, we lost contact months ago..." Otacon's ebullience faded into uncertainty, only to bounce back up again. "Or Mei Ling! She's been planning to visit for ages. Not to far away, either. Who else?"

"Well, we could invite Naomi and hope she brings the foxdie vaccine as a gift..."

"Okay! I'll call! Great!" Otacon enthused, not catching on to Snake's sarcasm.

"Yeah, and while we're at it, why don't we just find another fucking piece of my brother and put him in a jar so he can talk to us over dinner?"

"Wait, which piece...yeah, um, I'll call Mei Ling," Otacon quickly said, catching Snake's look of death.

"Good idea."

"Right."

"Okay."

"I'll do that now."

"Get the hell out of here, Otacon."

Snake put the knife down and sighed.

ONE WEEK LATER

"A teddy bear?" Otacon repeated as KC smiled happily, hugging the sickeningly cute plush toy tightly. Snake looked slightly embarrassed.

"Well, isn't that the kind of thing you wanted me to get her?"

"Yes, but..."

"'For it is in giving that we receive,'" Mei Ling intoned, with only a hint of sarcasm. "So said Saint Francis of Assisi. Pass the coffee, Otacon? So, tell me... how is this working out? I never expected to find the great Solid Snake a stay at home mom."

"My mommy's dead," KC said cheerfully, swinging her teddy bear around. "Snake told me."

"Maybe you'd be better equipped to raise a child?" Otacon said half-hopefully.

"'Although prepared for martyrdom, I preferred that it be postponed,' Sir Winston Churchill. Are you really having that much trouble with her?"

"Nothing we can't handle, Mei Ling," Snake said, frowning at Otacon.

"I don't know if it's healthy to discipline a child by making her drop and do fifty," Otacon muttered, loud enough that Mei Ling could hear.

"I don't see your point," Snake said mildly, taking a sip of tea.

"No? Teaching her how to use your SOCOM doesn't strike you as at all unusual?"

"'You can get a lot farther with a kind word and a gun than a kind word alone.' Al Capone."

"I thought you'd be on my side!" Otacon wailed.

"'You do ill if you praise, but worse if you censure, what you do not understand.'" Otacon glowered. Mei Ling smiled. "That was Leonardo da Vinci."

KC had finished 'feeding' her teddy bear and wandered over to the computer.

"Any news, Snake? I wouldn't think the Patriots would sit by silently as you stole their prize and dragged her off to Alaska for an indefinite period of time."

"They haven't been sitting by silently, Mei Ling," Snake said, closing his eyes. "We know they're searching for us. An area, say, 50 miles northwest of here, completely destroyed last fall. Lucky it was just forest, but it makes me think they're getting closer."

"'Destroy the seed of evil, or it will grow up to your ruin.' You're not surprised, are you? It's only logical. Have you given any thought to joining the gang at HQ in Russia? She should grow up with some kids her own age. Speaking of which, I heard Raiden had a son a while back..." Meanwhile, through trial and error, KC had managed to turn the computer on.

"Raiden? Hah." Otacon leaned back in his chair, oblivious to the small girl's industrious and destructive efforts. "Off the grid. I swear, he must have been pretty desperate to silence his codec... I can't think of how he'd do it, save dropping a toaster in the bathtub and sticking his head underwater."

"'When you have eliminated the impossible, that which remains, however improbable, must be the truth.' Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I'm afraid he hasn't taken this very well..."

"That's for sure, Mei Ling. I have tried to contact him – KC?" Otacon suddenly became aware of the sound of keys being pressed repeatedly. "_What_ _are you doing to my computer?_"

Mei Ling, closest to the computer, leaned over to look. "As Aldous Huxley once said, 'Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you mad.' I'm afraid I must be going," she said to Snake, as Otacon was hyperventilating by the computer, "So may I ask for a ride home?"

"Of course... Thanks for coming. C'mon KC, we're going to give Mei Ling a ride home... Otacon needs some time alone right now."

Later, as Mei Ling stepped off the dogsled and onto the snow, she gave one last bit of wisdom.

"'The family seems to have two predominant functions: to provide warmth and love in time of need and to drive each other insane.' Donald G. Smith. Good luck, Snake."

THREE YEARS, SEVEN MONTHS SINCE ABDUCTION, WOOF

There was something wrong.

Perhaps it was that faint aroma in the air that first alerted Snake that there was something amiss with his huskies. It wasn't sarin, nor mustard gas; Snake would have recognized it. It was damned familiar, on the tip of his tongue, but somehow just out of reach of his mind.

The dogs _seemed_ to be fine; that was to say, they were alive, but none had rushed up to greet Snake as he came in with their morning meal. It wasn't as if they were sick – they were wagging their tails, looking over at him cheerfully, but standing in their beds of hay. It was almost like they were concentrating on something else.

Then he heard it. A strange schlop, the sound of something stuck becoming unstuck, again and again and again... He looked at the dogs. Snake was always good at gauging their moods. Not unhappy, he thought, in fact, they looked downright pleased, tails going, but puzzled. He advanced towards the pack, and the scent became stronger, as did the repetitive sound. Was it the dogs?

He knelt down by the first dog. It wagged its tail harder but made no move to lick his face. In fact, its mouth was slightly open, and its pink tongue was working furiously inside its mouth. Then it hit him: peanut butter.

His gaze slowly traveled over the pack and to the other end of the barn, where a small figure was holding a spoon and a jar. Moving in silently, as only Solid Snake could, he could just hear her...

"One for you," and the dog eagerly licked the glob of peanut butter off the proffered spoon, immediately becoming incapable of opening its mouth, "..one for me," and she dug the spoon into the jar to get another generous scoop for herself.

"Hi Shnake," she said indistinctly, turning towards him happily. "Want shome?"

FOUR YEARS SINCE ABDUCTION, TERRORISTS

It was some time after 1 AM, and, as usual, Otacon was up with his glowing computer screen and steaming mug of coffee. He had turned off the screen and closed his eyes, catching a brief moment of semi-sleep when he heard the faint but unmistakable sound of creaking floorboards. The footsteps became slightly louder; KC must be ascending the stairs that led to the underground level where her room was, among other things. He cracked the door open, and the faint hall light showed the small girl making her way towards Snake's door. _I don't think he still has his door rigged with Semtex_, Otacon thought, eyes straining in the near dark. He needn't have worried; the door opened with no accompanying explosion. _I suppose he abandoned that habit after we moved back here._

"Snake?" Her voice carried clearly. Snake, who, understandably, was a light sleeper, had been alert since the first board groaned under her weight.

"Yes, KC? Something wrong?" She sniffed slightly.

"Snake, there are terrorists under my bed," she wailed, fear evident in her voice. "They want me to give them the president, but I don't have the president..."

"Hush, it's just a bad dream, don't worry, kid."

"It's _not_ a bad dream, they're there!" _Ah, the conviction of a child,_ Otacon smiled to himself. Terrorists under her bed. What had Snake been telling the girl?

"Just take this." There was a pause. "Now, don't let those terrorists give you any more trouble, hear?"

There was a definitely reassured affirmative, and burning with curiosity, Otacon peered through the crack to watch her retreat back to her room, the unmistakable profile of a SOCOM clutched in her small hands. He waited as she closed the hall door behind her, and waited until the footsteps receded down the stairs...

"SNAAAAKE!"

"I'd _never_ give a kid her age a loaded gun," Snake insisted, slightly offended. It was the next morning, and the debate had picked up once more. "Besides, why shouldn't she learn not to be afraid? At least she has the comfort that she can hurt them back now,"

"That's not the point!" Otacon ignored Snake's theory on child psychology.

"So what is?"

"I don't know! But it isn't!"

"Might I point out that _some_ people were initiated into real combat at a much earlier age?"

"That's not the point either!"

"I won't claim that they turned out fine, but they're still alive, and that just might be the point there."

FOUR YEARS, 2 MONTHS SINCE ABDUCTION, A TRIP AND A MULLET

Snake was hunched over a map, trying to plot his course to Anchorage. Otacon was chasing after KC with a pair of scissors.

"Get back here, young lady, you sit still – I'll, I'll, KC!"

KC, her mind in stealth mode, hardly heard him.

"Snake!" Otacon shouted, as KC ducked past the old warrior. His arm shot out and a moment later, he had her by the collar as she struggled ineffectively. "Thanks." Otacon breathed a sigh of relief, "NOW, KC, what is going on?"

KC pouted.

"I don't want the hair you give me," she said, "I want _bangs_."

It took Otacon a moment to decipher, his mind going first to his special DVD collection. Oh, wait, bangs...yeah. And she didn't like his haircut? He spent a moment feeling hurt, and then turned to Snake.

"Hey, Snake, lend me a hand with her hair?"

"You always deal with that," Snake said pointedly, not looking up.

"Well, she wants, you know, bangs."

"And...you think I could help you with that, why?"

Otacon made hand motions and Snake glared at him, uncomprehending.

"You...hair...I don't know..." Snake's expression didn't change.

"Otacon. _They're NOT BANGS._" He swept the map off the table and brought his hands down on the wood. "That being said, give me the scissors."

The morning after Snake left to re-supply the fort, Otacon was cradling a mug of black coffee in his hands, staring at nothing in particular. KC shuffled into the kitchen, her teddy bear trailing behind.

"I want pancakes," she announced, and seeing Otacon stir slightly, she added, "Teddy bear pancakes."

Otacon, having got a desperately sad amount of sleep last night even for him, stared at her.

"Snake always makes me teddy bear pancakes," she said, her voice approaching a wail. Still Otacon did nothing. It occurred to her that he didn't know how to make them. "He makes the head first," she prompted, climbing up onto a chair and taking a moment to arrange teddy bear in the chair beside her.

"Right." Otacon had been faintly echoing KC's words. "Pancakes. Teddy bear. Snake. Head." He stopped for a moment and tried to, or not to, think. "Ah," he said, suddenly catching on, "Breakfast."

"Breakfast," KC said, trying to be helpful.

Otacon managed the batter, and with ample supervision, produced a vaguely animal looking shape, as long as he didn't look at it too closely. It flopped onto the waiting KC's plate, and she looked down at it for a good minute before looking up at Otacon. Anticipating some criticism as to its shape, he tried for pre-emptive strike.

"See, here are the ears, and here are the arms, or arm, rather, and um..."

She didn't look mollified.

"You forgot," her lip quivered. "You forgot the chocolate chip eyes. _Snake_ always remembers."

Otacon wilted.

"SNAAAKE!" Snake came home to the familiar sound of Otacon, well, throwing a tantrum.

"Yes, Otacon?" He trudged in, having just put the dogs in the barn and the supplies in the shed. "Problem(s)?"

"It's KC! She was playing in the workshop! She stole a piece of equipment!" Otacon, Snake realized, looked rather frazzled. Snake was sure taking care of KC for a week all alone had been a learning experience. He had hoped, though, that the two would escape major mishap. It appeared they had not.

"And," Snake said, with infinite patience, "Why is this so urgent? Take it away from her if you're worried."

"Snaaake! It was the optic camo!"

"Damn, damn, damn it, Otacon, what the..." Snake muttered under his breath, having searched the entire house with thermal goggles. He stared at the fuzzy orange blob in front of him. "_Why_..."

"She's, uh, not in the house?" Otacon said desperately, trying to back away without Snake noticing.

"NO. She's not. That leaves..." He disappeared into the snowy outdoors, a place Otacon tried to avoid as much as possible.

The shed having turned up nothing, Snake entered the dog shed with something very close to desperation. The dogs panted and wagged their tails and then went back to sleep. It had been a long trip. The thermal goggles revealed the glowing orange body heat of the dogs, but nothing else. He started to turn, and then stopped. He counted.

"I seem to have an extra dog," Snake said mildly to no one in particular. A few pieces of hay shifted guiltily. "YOU!" He pounced, clearing away the hay pile with a single sweep of his arms. A furry dog opened its eyes to gaze, confused, up at its master. "No, not you...nor you...KC." He had prepared himself to yell, but the girl was fast asleep, teddy bear in her arms. His goggles pushed up to his forehead, he sighed.

When he carried the sleepy fugitive in and deposited her in her bed, Otacon was sitting in the kitchen looking unrepentant. Snake raised his eyebrows. Otacon did the same.

"So, Solid Snake," he said, his voice perfectly neutral, "Teddy bear pancakes?"


	3. KC: THE TEENAGE YEARS

9 YEARS SINCE ABDUCTION, THE ABOMBINABLE SNOWMEN

Snow swirled thick through the cold Alaskan air as Otacon squinted out the window, trying to keep track of a nimble figure bundled in cold weather camouflage and wearing a bright red cap. His eyes followed the red blur, which, in fact, had been added to the costume for increased visibility. He'd been working all day, periodically checking to ascertain that KC was still there, as opposed to, say, trying to start the broken down Kasatka that was rusting in the shed, and succeeding.

"Hey, Snake, check this out," he said after the air cleared some. KC was darting through rows of snowmen. Rows and rows of snowmen. "So that's what she's been doing all day... and look, a snow fort."

Snake looked up from cleaning a periscope he had taken as a souvenir from one of his earliest missions.

"What's this, WWII?"

"What's she doing now...hmmm...." KC had entered the basement of the building, disappearing down the steps. Otacon frowned. "Basement?" It was a few minutes before she emerged again, and Snake and Otacon had gotten into a discussion about the newest president of the United States.

"Poor man," Otacon was saying, while Snake scowled.

"They bring it upon themselves, the whole lot of 'em. They line up for the Patriots. And then act surprised. Hmph..."

"Ah, Snake?" Otacon had just seen something through the window that disturbed him. "Uh, what's KC...what's she...holding...?" Snake peered out and then jumped up, his periscope clattering to the floor.

"That's not...it isn't...KC!" The small figure could be seen fiddling with a grapefruit sized object, inspecting it carefully.

"A _hand grenade_!" Otacon shrieked, his voice several octaves above normal. KC pulled the pin. Snake was pounding the glass frantically.

"Throw! Run! THROW IT!" Finally, at the last possible second, she raised it and sent it flying into the middle of the snowmen before diving into the fort. And from Otacon, "KC!"

The grenade exploded, blowing the army of snowmen into oblivion. From the ruins of a snow fort, KC jumped up, howling victory. Snake was already halfway out the door.

When he had dragged the girl in by her earlobe, melted snow dripping of her red face, a dangerous silence settled on the room. Snake was looking unusually red in the face. Otacon was trying to hide behind his computer.

"Um," KC began, but Snake interrupted.

"KC! GOD DAMN IT! ARE YOU CRAZY! A HAND GRENADE? YOU COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED! YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN KILLED, DAMN IT! THEY ARE **NOT** TOYS! ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?"

"Yes, Sna-" Her meek reply was cut off once again by Snake growling.

"YOU. ROOM. NOW!" She scurried off, taking full advantage of the opportunity to escape. Snake very rarely reached that level of excitement. Regretfully, she realized she shouldn't have wasted a hand grenade like that.

Back in the living room, Snake took several deep breaths. Otacon ventured a question.

"Who do you suppose she was fighting, anyway?" There was a pregnant pause. Snake turned to regard him with a strange glint in his eye. He opened his mouth, trying to find an answer. Otacon suddenly regretted talking at all. Snake finally found what he was trying to say.

"Your_ mother_."

10 YEARS SINCE ABDUCTION, MOMMY, WHERE ART THOU?

"So, what happened to my mother?" KC was nonchalantly soaking her waffle in maple syrup.

"Your...mother?" Otacon stared.

"She died," said Snake shortly, flipping through a week old newspaper.

"I _know_," KC said, casting a glance to the heavens. "How?"

"Shot," Snake answered.

"Where?"

"In the head."

"_Where_?"

"Arsenal Gear."

"What?"

Silence. KC went for the big one.

"Why?"

"Because."

12 YEARS SINCE ABDUCTION, SNAKE QUITS SMOKING

6 AM, a brisk Alaskan morning during the brief summer weeks the trio enjoyed; Snake was bent over, hacking and gasping for air. Something caught his bleary eyes and he stopped the morning ritual to see the lanky teenager, who usually lagged a respectable number of laps behind the warrior and had recently been trailing a distance behind on their morning runs, lap him.

Later that day, Otacon walked in on Snake puffing furiously on a candy cane as he tried to repair a dog harness. Otacon, watching, bemused, as Snake's hands twitched each time he tried to thread the needle, cleared his throat.

"I take it _wasn't_ KC who stole all of your cigarettes and tossed them in the garbage?"

"Why Otacon," Snake's voice was tight, "You're so sharp you'll cut yourself someday."

13 YEARS, 6 MONTHS SINCE ABDUCTION, J00 M4D SUX0RZ

KC had discovered the internet. Otacon, despairing of ever explaining to Snake how to use a mouse, had decided that KC would not be raised in such ignorance. KC had been an apt pupil, quickly discovering that Otacon's fleet of personal computers were not only saturated with classified information, but that in a shocking turn of events, Halo 3 had finally been released and Otacon had quickly pirated his own copy.

"OWNED!" Otacon was trying to work; these outbursts from KC were not helping.

"KC," he tried, but she was wearing headphones, bent towards the screen and clutching the controller tightly.

"_What?_" She was talking to the screen. "What? Cheap! Cheap...newbie..."

"KC!" Otacon got a reaction this time. She glanced sideways, and he could have sworn she'd muttered lamer under her breath. Trying to exercise self control, he slowly leaned over and pressed a button on the computer. The monitor went blank.

KC stared.

"Hey!"

"I'm trying to work here, KC! And when did I ever say MY computers were available for gaming purposes?" Otacon glared at her. She glared back.

"Well, _you_ do plenty of it," KC pointed out, her voice slightly acidic.

"Off."

"What? My game! Otacon!" She immediately changed her tone. "Please? I promise to be quiet!"

"Now." He would be firm. "You never give Snake a hard time when he tells you to do something..."

"Otacon!" He tried not to show visible signs of weakening at her anguished wail. _He_ hated when he had to stop playing because he hadn't eaten in fourteen hours. Being forced to stop must be worse. Nevertheless. "Please?"

"No."

"Pleeeease?"

"No." She paused, trying to master her emotions.

"Well, then," KC replied, her voice no longer pleading. "Five more minutes?"

"Very well." He walked over to his desk, feeling satisfied. She turned the monitor back on, closed her game, and picked up the camera and snapped a shot of Otacon. Without a word, she uploaded the picture and after a moment, the printer began to spit out papers. Otacon, trying not to look curious, sat down. As the printer finished up, KC picked up scissors, glue, and the printed documents. She stopped on her way out to pick up a cardboard box.

It was a few hours before flashes of color on the snow outside caught Otacon's eye. KC had emerged – she'd been unusually quiet, especially after a tiff with Otacon – and she was carrying something. His download finished; he was in the process of scanning the document when a shot distracted him.

The girl was shooting at _something_. What, he didn't know. Sensing danger, he decided to go see. As he trekked through the snow piles to KC's approximate location, he saw it; a vaguely familiar figure standing in the distance. Another shot ripped through its head.

"Gotcha that time, eh, Otacon?" A voice came from behind him. Otacon turned to see Snake, with a wicked grin on his face. Otacon's gaze snapped back to the cut-out.

"Me!" He gulped air and then choked, wheezing as Snake chuckled. KC was shooting at a life size cut-out of Otacon.

"Good aim, too," Snake observed, thumping Otacon on the back and sending him sprawling into the snow. "Sorry."

14 YEARS SINCE ABDUCTION, NOT A NORMAL CHILDHOOD

"Snake, I've been thinking," Otacon was re-wiring one of his latest gadgets.

"Oh, really," KC piped up from the den. Otacon decided to ignore it.

"I should learn how to use a gun," he proclaimed. Snake put the last dish in the sink and turned to regard him. "I mean, what if something happened to you? I would have to protect KC."

"_I_ would have to protect _you_," KC interjected. Snake, seeing Otacon's dismayed expression, quickly intervened.

"Sure, Otacon. Tomorrow. I'll show you."

"I, uh, hold it like this, right? Snake?" Otacon's arm was trembling under the unexpected weight of one of Snake's guns. Snake took a deep breath.

"Ah, well, just move your finger here, and then... there you go. See that target? You want to line the sights up just so – aim – on three, one, two - "

A shot, and a bullet whizzed through the air hitting the target dead center.

"Three..." Snake, with a sigh, looked behind him; up on the roof was KC, waving cheerfully with a sniper rifle cradled in her arm. Otacon was looked puzzled, his shot unfired. "Let's try that again. You ready? Okay...now!"

But it came just a second too late; again, something ripped through the target, and Otacon, having only just aimed, shot the horizon. He dropped the gun.

"I can't do this! What's she trying to do? What's going on?" Snake stooped to pick up the gun and examined it with an air of sadness.

"Go tell her to stop. I'll find another one that's easier to use..."

"KC?" Otacon was standing on the snow, looking up at the figure on the roof.

"Oh, hi, Otacon," was the response, as she turned to face him, staring at him through the sight. He gulped. Otacon was never quite at ease with a gun pointed at his chest.

"Ah, er, KC," he resisted the urge to duck and cover, "You, ah, could you by any chance – by any chance take a break from shooting for a while? I'm trying to, ah, learn how to use a...a gun."

"Otacon!" Her voice was the embodiment of surprise as she continued to stare at him through the sight. "Of course! You only had to ask."

SHORTLY THEREAFTER

"KC!" Snake was standing at her door, shouting at the top of his lungs. "KC! OPEN THE DOOR!" Faint music filtered through the locked door. After a moment of listening, Snake tried again. "OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!"

"HUH?" He could barely make out the response.

"YOU WANT ME TO BREAK THIS DOOR DOWN? OPEN!" No response. He took a tight breath, stepped back, and... the full force of the music hit him as the door splintered to pieces. He lowered his foot and stared at the surprised KC. With a sudden motion, he stepped over and ripped the plug from the wall; the room immediately plunged into silence.

"Sna-"

"KC. I think we need to talk about your _attitude_."

"I'm..."

"_Listen to me!_ What's going on here? Do you have something to say to me? Out with it! SPEAK!" KC, wisely, kept her silence. "Your behavior towards Otacon is _disgraceful!_ You know he doesn't appreciate your – your humor!" He snarled the last word at her. In the brief silence she felt she had to respond.

"Sir!" Snake, she knew, wasn't _really_ mad: just like the drill sergeant didn't _really_ hate your guts, he just acted that way because it was his job...

"I think you need to apologize to Otacon!"

"Yes, sir!"

"And give him back his doll!" _The anime figurine,_ she remembered – she'd known Otacon would be too embarrassed to ask for it back... She gave the required response while she recalled the stash of Sailor Moon toys under her bed with some amusement.

"Yes, sir!"

"And stop popping up at the window in your skull suit at night and scaring him!"

"Yes, sir!" Catching her on auto-pilot, he switched his pattern suddenly:

"Do you think I look stupid or something?"

"Yes, sir! (a split second pause) No sir! Of course not, sir!"

"AND CLEAN UP THIS ROOM!" His gaze traveled around the room; used magazines littering the floor, grease rags, a gas mask, scattered nuts and bolts, and the walls, lined with old maps of countries and regions no longer in existence, and, last but not least, perched on a Spartan bed, a worn teddy bear.

And Snake, in a moment of revelation, realized – a teenage girl's room should _not_ look like this. With a low growl – for effect, of course – he turned and disappeared from the doorway.

"...sir..." KC slid down to the floor and pulled the teddy bear to her chest, breathing a sigh of relief.

10 MINUTES LATER: SNAKE SPEAKS TO OTACON

"Otacon," Snake said reflectively, after coming into the kitchen and sitting down at the table. Otacon smiled vaguely without looking up from the computer screen.

"Snake?"

"Have you seen KC's room lately?"

"Hmm...what? No."

"A mess. Tools, old mission maps, dirty magazines everywhere..."

"_What?_" Otacon finally was looking at Snake, an alarmed look on his face. "How did she get them? They're locked in my desk! What is she...how...?"

"Dirty magazines," Snake said with a glare, pulling the object in question out of his gun and slamming it on the table in front of Otacon. A small 'oh' escaped Otacon before Snake continued. "Otacon, how many women do you know that had rooms like this when they were her age?" There was a brief pause before Snake corrected himself. "Or know of, rather."

"Well, what about Meryl?" Otacon suggested, ignoring the insult.

"Meryl," Snake said darkly, "should not and should never be considered a woman."

"Oh."

"As I was saying – Otacon, I don't think KC has had a normal childhood."

"Is that so, Snake..."

LESS THAN A WEEK LATER, OTACON AND THE BROADWAY PLAY

"KC!" She came running in the door, skidding on the tiles and catching herself on Otacon. He staggered and then, collecting his dignity, stood up. "We're going to New York City."

"What?" Very rarely was Otacon able to shock KC so thoroughly; this was one of them. In all the years she had lived here, they had gone to Anchorage three times, maybe four – and now New York? "What?"

"You heard him. You should get packing. We're leaving the day after tomorrow." Snake was leaning against the doorframe.

"New York City? Why?" KC still hadn't absorbed the information. Otacon looked momentarily blank, and then inspired.

"We're going to see a Broadway play!"

"Philanthropy called a meeting," she corrected, breathless. Otacon stared and Snake frowned.

"Broadway play," Otacon insisted, but Snake interrupted.

"How do you know?"

"Otacon...computers...accident....the day after tomorrow?" She was only shocked because she was being allowed to come. Snake grunted.

"I did...want to see a Broadway play," Otacon sighed, and wandered back into his study.

"Well, better get out there and fix that Kasatka," Snake said cheerfully, rubbing his hands together. "It's been a while since that thing has been in the air..."

"Snake!" Otacon's voice rang out from the study. "We are _not_ taking the Kasatka! We are flying on American Airlines! You are not going to violate thirty-four no-fly zones stretching from Alaska to New York again! Snake, remember the last time..."

"He just doesn't think I can fix it," Snake said to KC, with a grin on his face. "Watch me."

PREPARATIONS FOR A JOURNEY

Snake had finally emerged from his room after admitting defeat as far as the Kasatka went; after dropping the dogs off with Naomi, he went to dump KC's luggage in the back of the armed vehicle and stopped.

"KC." At the sound of her name she froze, halfway out the door. "KC... can you tell me why this bag is so heavy?"

"Stuff," she said indistinctly through the layers of scarves Otacon had piled on her.

"It wouldn't happen to be any of the stuff that you and I discussed, now, would it? No 'stuff' that would get us in trouble on an airplane? No 'stuff' that private citizens are not allowed to possess?"

"Ah – course not," she answered, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Snake dropped the bag and pulled it open. A few articles of clothing fell out, along with an assortment of much heavier and much more dangerous items. Without another word, Snake began rifling through her bags, confiscating a hand grenade here, a small handgun there... "My tranquilizer gun," Snake muttered with surprise, and then, after assuring himself that there was nothing else, dumped the remaining clothes and miscellaneous things into the smallest bag. "Here. You do know about the security systems in place at the airport?"

"What, a few metal detectors and bag scanners?" KC replied scornfully, tossing her head despite the fact that it was swathed in hats and scarves and a few gloves. Otacon had recently decided that she was at risk for pneumonia. "Easy stuff."

"Actually," Snake said, clearing his throat, "I was an unofficial consultant in the security designs for the airport we're leaving from. I don't think you'd have made it out of the parking lot."

"Oh." KC wasn't sure if he was telling the truth or not, but with Snake, you could never tell...

An hour later, after Otacon had panicked and turned back twice because he thought he left his G7 Mac on, they were on their way.


End file.
